


The Place In Our Hearts Where We Hide

by chunni



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Elton John is in denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, John Reid Is His Own Warning, Kissing, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunni/pseuds/chunni
Summary: In a world where the name of your soulmate appears as a tattoo on your skin the day you become 23, Elton thinks he has found him even before that fateful date.He might be wrong.He might also be right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is an Elton/Bernie soulmate AU (My second soulmate AU, oh dear). I noticed Elton being older than Bernie and went with the potential of angst it created…  
> Shoutout to tavrincallas for giving me the idea!  
> I listened to That’s Why They Call It The Blues (The title is a line from the song), Sad Songs (Say So Much) and Daniel by Elton John while writing this, if you don't know the songs, get to know them! They're great.  
> The rating is for Elton/John in the second part (it was supposed to be an OS but grew longer than I expected). Also, I'm no native speaker, so please go ahead and correct my errors.
> 
> Friendly reminder that these are the characters from the film, this is NOT a RPF fanfiction.
> 
>  
> 
> (Fun Fact: I don't mention it but I headcanon that Elton's parents aren't soulmates in this, however, his mother and Fred are.)

**1/2**

~

~

~

When Elton first saw Bernie, he hadn’t reached his 23rd birthday yet. There were no softly written lines like ink on his skin, and no way to know if there were more to them than met the eye.

It didn’t matter.

When Elton first saw Bernie, he was _convinced_ that they must be soulmates. He saw the way Bernie’s eyes lit up, a warm glimmer like candles, no hidden darkness, no hidden resentment. And he had thought that this could only be an angel for no mundane human being could gaze with such pure _goodness_.

His lips formed a smile as natural as it could be, his heart skipping a beat only to fill out his whole chest as if wanting to leap right into the air around them. He felt warm but it wasn’t like the stuffy warmth of an enclosed space with exaggerated heating but more like the warmth of the sun’s rays on your skin after a long and dark winter. It felt _good_.

It felt so good, so right, and their talking, their singing only reinforced this feeling to a point that he forgot everything around them, forgot the café, the streets, the metro station, because nothing else mattered, nothing but _him_. Time went by like a highspeed train. His thoughts and feelings seemed to have entered, too, his mind a flickering whirlwind, sparks flying through his body, and he didn’t want their conversations to end, he didn’t want their connection to break off.

It felt so good, so _right_ , that he didn’t think about what it would mean if they were soulmates until he was back home again.

That was when his heart contracted making him freeze on the spot, the grin fading away like old, forgotten photos.

He shouldn’t want Bernie as his soulmate.

He should meet a nice girl, get a child or two, and settle down in a quiet and beautiful place, with _her_ as his soulmate. That was what his mother had said, what his father would have said, surely, if he’d spoken a word to Elton in the last ten, _fifteen?_ , years. That was what everyone expected from him, wasn’t it?

He shouldn’t be one of… _them_. He _wasn’t_.

Or was he?

He’d kissed a few guys, sure, he might have even liked it better than the messy, sloppy attempts with girls in the past. But it wasn’t his fault that these girls had been… off, giggling and exchanging gossip at every waking minute, and there hadn’t been a connection, hadn’t been a feeling of mutual understanding. It hadn’t felt right.

But it didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be a girl for him, right? There must be, somewhere. Maybe.

Elton swallowed hard despite the feeling of dust clinging to his tongue. His stomach twisted but he couldn’t say if it was because he feared he wouldn’t find a girl or if it was the aspect of finding a girl that scared him. He balled his hands to fists as his fingertips grew oddly cold, like icicles, and he rubbed them together to bring back some of the warmth.

It didn’t work.

When he was lying in bed that night, when tiredness grabbed him spreading through his body like hot chocolate, his mind wandered off.

He couldn’t say for sure where his thoughts ended and the dreams began. But there _were_ pictures of a young man, warm smiles and warm eyes that shone right through the strands of dark, long hair, that lit up his whole face, a bright, a beautiful man, and Elton smiled, too, eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep.

He tried to ignore the tingling of his stomach, the fluttering warmth that told him to scream, fight against the whole world if it would only make him relive these precious memories.

He tried to ignore them even though they felt right.

~

Elton tried.

He really did.

Arabella had pretty blond curls, a delicate face and eyes like a doe. She was nice enough if she wanted to be and always styled to a T, a thing his mother appreciated. Elton didn’t feel like she could be his soulmate but, well, he couldn’t be sure, could he?

Sometimes he found himself wishing she were, just because it would be easier. Because his mother might be smiling at him, congratulating him, a real, a genuine smile, and not one from thinly pressed lips that seemed more like a grimace.

Often he found himself wishing she’d break up with him.

Often Elton found himself glancing to another person when hugging, kissing her and she was short enough to make it easy, much too easy. He could have told himself that it was merely a coincident, that his gaze wandered off on his own looking over her petite shoulders and happened to graze _him_. Bernie, notebook and pencil in his hands, the spot between his brows slightly creased as he wrote about with soft, scribbling noises.

He could have told himself that it was merely a coincident if it weren’t for the times _he_ wasn’t there, and Elton closed his eyes imagining Arabella away. Imagining someone else in her place.

It was like eating a whole box of chocolate in one go, sweet while it lasted but nauseating in the end.

He couldn’t stop it.

~

The lights of the city beneath them sparkled like the stars of the nightly sky above them. Looking at them made him feel as if he were floating, floating through the curious infinity of space, and if it were Bernie with him, it might be worth it.

Elton hadn’t thought that his body, his mind could contain all these feelings that rushed through them during their conversation, a joy so possessive it vibrated through his flesh like the melody of a song. A song more beautiful than anything he could ever create.

When Bernie told him that he was destined for greater things, that his music was special, that _he_ was special, he felt himself rising into the sky, to the stars themselves. There had been such a certainty in his words, such a selfless admiration, such _love_ , and Elton didn’t care at all that they were both males. He had felt invincible, ready to take on the world, and maybe he had been, for a moment.

Perhaps that was what gave him the confidence to lean forward, gaze flickering between soft-looking lips and warm eyes, both beautiful, his own heartbeat a racing, glowing pulse in the background. He’d never wanted anything more than letting their bodies melt together in that second, the desire a hot pang inside his chest, a flicker through his stomach.

It didn’t hurt when Bernie withdrew.

At least not in the first moments, because there was nothing to hurt. Everything was numbed as if he were a ghost, doomed to walk by without being able to touch, maybe even less than that. He couldn’t feel his body, his mind, his thoughts. Everything was gone, sucked away by a horrifying emptiness. A black hole.

He blinked and everything was back, and with it a pain as if he were walking through a burning forest, flames licking at his skin colouring it red and black and dead.

Nobody had told him that the words _I love you_ could hurt that much.

“I’m sure, you’ll find your soulmate, Elton, someone who’s equally talented and nice and funny as you are,” Bernie had added. Smiling, still smiling his warm smiles, and there was a part of Elton that was thankful that there was no resentment, that they could stay friends, at least, even though he wanted more.

 _I’ve already found him_ , he wanted to say, to whisper even but his tongue was burned and useless. And it wouldn’t have mattered either way.

Bernie patted his knee, the touch sending little sparks of electricity through his body, and he found the strength to raise the corners of his mouth to a small smile.

“Though, something tells me that it isn’t Arabella.”

Laughing hurt but it was better than crying, and Bernie was right after all.

~

Breaking up with her was the easiest thing Elton had ever done in his life and it made him wonder why he hadn’t done so earlier.

When he saw the disappointment in his mother’s face he knew why.

It wasn’t easy to forget that night on the rooftop because the truth had burned itself into his memory like melted iron. The truth that hurt like nothing else, that made him fear his upcoming birthday like a death sentence, because _he_ didn’t want him, _not like that_ , and there was no way he’d get what he so very much wished for.

Bernie Taupin wasn’t his soulmate.

~

The day before his birthday his stomach churned enough to make him consider taking pills against the pain. Elton didn’t because he knew that it wouldn’t improve the situation, because this pain wasn’t something you could swallow pills against. It was inside his mind, fuelled by fear and grief and worry.

If he’d died that night inside his bed he wouldn’t have complained.

Of course, he didn’t.

When Elton came to, the spring’s sun shining through the window, he didn’t feel any different.

For a moment, he wondered if it might have gone wrong, if he were a special case, one of these rare people that were born without a soulmate. He wouldn’t have minded being one. It was better than a lifelong commitment to a person he didn’t even know, and who said that he’d even _like_ his soulmate? He didn’t want to go looking for some stranger when he’d had the seemingly perfect match right next to him. Achingly perfect. If it weren’t for, _well_ ,… the way their feelings differed from each other.

Elton sighed and the invisible weight pressing onto his chest was almost able to stop him from lifting his upper body.

He didn’t want to look down at his body to find a black, tattooed name having appeared without a single needle breaking his skin, let alone rising to look into a mirror. He didn’t care for that name without a body, without a personality.

Nevertheless, he knew that Bernie would ask him about it, and his mother and Fred might as well. Everyone got their name on their 23rd birthday, either that or no name at all, and he’d be no exception. There was no way he could ignore it.

That was why he clenched his teeth with the same determination that the soldiers going to war might have had and began to pull off the blanket with trembling hands. And why did they even tremble when it didn’t matter? It _didn’t_ matter, not anymore.

He turned his arms around eying the skin, naked skin, no ink, no blackness, no letters, and he almost considered standing up to get a better look when something flickered through the corners of his vision. Something dark, something at the side of his hips, a _name_.

His heartbeat quickened when he lifted his right arm, turning his head oh so slightly, blinking.

Pausing. Eyes wide and widening even more.

 _It couldn’t be._ It. Couldn’t. Be.

Shaking his head in a poor resemblance of a robot, Elton threw himself out of bed stumbling all the way to the bathroom, to the mirror, because he couldn’t have read it the right way. He couldn’t have. _It must be the angle_ , he told himself, _I simply didn’t see some of the letters, I’ve misread them_.

He was thankful that nobody was in it when he locked himself into the room, key cold against his skin, heart racing, heating up like ignited flames.

He must have stood in front of the mirror for an hour or more, turning around all angles, coming closer and backing off, reading the name and its letters over and over again, even tracing the inked lines with numb fingers to be sure.

They didn’t change, there were no letters appearing out of thin air, no letters vanishing, and he wouldn’t have needed to go to the bathroom. Because he hadn’t misread the name.

He hadn’t misread it, couldn’t have, and a part of him had known it all along.

Bernie Taupin was his soulmate.

~

Elton couldn’t breathe.

There didn’t seem to be space left in his lungs and even if it were, there was no oxygen in the room, the air sticky and dense and _unbreathable_. 

That was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

That was what he’d longed for, wasn’t it?

And he still did, _he still did_ , a desire he’d tried to supress far too long. Long enough to make him feel like he’d, maybe, managed to overcome it. It would have been better if he’d managed.

But he hadn’t.

It became clear when his heart began to glow, warm, no raging fire but a candle, and it would have been easy to give in to the illusion that everything would be perfect, that they were meant to be after all, and that _everything would be perfect_.

Everything would have been perfect if Bernie had wanted him.

But he didn’t. He’d made it clear enough all those nights ago on the rooftop, a rejection as lovely and sweet as he was but a rejection nonetheless.

How could they be soulmates if Bernie didn’t want him?

Elton closed his eyes as tears began to blurry his sight but he couldn’t keep them from spilling over his cheeks. A cruel joke, wasn’t it?

This was even worse than a bodiless stranger. Because then he would have been able to make a choice. He could have chosen to stay away, not to go looking for him, or her. He could have chosen to ignore it, to lie about it.

That wasn’t a possibility now.

Bernie would know. Even if Elton managed to keep it a secret today, the following days, years even, there would come the day of Bernie’s 23rd birthday. And he would see the name at the side of his hip, and he would _know_.

 _I should tell him_ , Elton thought and a wave of nausea made him sway until he had to hold onto the wall for support.

There was a knock against the door and his eyes shot open as if someone had slapped him across his face.

“You in there, mate?”

 _Bernie_.

When a second knock echoed through the room he flinched rubbing his eyes with hasty, shaking movements.

He took a deep breath hoping, _praying_ , that his voice wouldn’t be quivering too much.

“Y-yeah, I… I’m here.” He inhaled, air still sticky, still dense. Everything hurt, though, there was a part of him that purred at Bernie’s words, a part that rang with a weird sort of happiness, a happiness he shouldn’t be feeling.

“I’m alright,” he felt the need to add as no answer came. Lying, of course.

His heart jumped and twisted and turned inside his chest and he bit his lip to keep himself from screaming because _he couldn’t do it_. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell him, not now, not today, maybe never.

“I’m about to shower, Bernie,” he said, voice firm but it wasn’t his soul speaking, it was only the motion of muscles, purely automatic, and cold like metal, too. “If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to wait.”

He shoved himself off the wall reaching forward to turn on the water inside the shower even before undressing. The pattering rain drowned out any response Bernie might have given, and it was nice to postpone a talk he didn’t want to have.

It was easy too.

~

Bernie didn’t ask him about his soulmate that day. His mother neither and Fred was soon hushed by her as he dared to graze the subject.

Elton was glad.

~

When Bernie did ask about it, it was whole week later.

A week of Elton paying attention not to change clothes while being in the same room, a week of not wearing anything remotely transparent, a week of firmly tucked in button down shirts. A week of ignoring a problem he shouldn’t ignore.

It happened while they were eating lunch on the terrace of a small and cosy café, the sweet scent of lilies and tulips surrounding them. The sun hid behind a few clouds in the sky but there was no wind, and the air was clear and warm enough for early spring. They had been talking and smiling and laughing, and the frustrating, aching topic of soulmates had disappeared into the far back of his head leaving his mind relaxed and rejoicing.

At least until Bernie said something that made him freeze.

“So, how long do I have to wait until you tell me about your soulmate?”

The fork Elton had lifted to pick up a piece of broccoli sank back to the table.

Bernie raised one brow tilting his head slightly and the curiosity speaking from these motions was almost able to cover up the traces of something… _different_ in his voice. Disappointment?

Elton resisted the urge to avert his eyes, to clench his teeth and grimace as if he’d bitten into a mouldy apple. Of course, Bernie would be disappointed that Elton wasn’t talking about this topic by himself, they were best friends after all. But he didn’t know what he could do to change it. Every possibility seemed to lead to disappointment in the end, and wasn’t this kind of disappointment better in the long run?

A harmless, quickly forgotten conflict, not as lifechanging as telling him that they were soulmates. And what if Elton was different after all? What if Bernie didn’t get _his_ name on that damned birthday?

Telling him now, just to be rejected over and over again… Elton couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t,

The lies fell like glowing stones from his lips, and it hurt. It hurt so much that he’d wonder, later on, how he’d managed to say these words without a shaking note. But he knew he needed to do it because it couldn’t get better. It could only get worse.

He couldn’t risk losing Bernie. He needed their friendship, their talks, the way they’d laugh at the same jokes, the way they were making and loving music. He needed _him_.

So he lied.

“I don’t know… the person,” he said wetting his lips, eyes flickering through Bernie’s face in search of a sign that he wasn’t believing him. At least he’d decided to put on a pair of light blue tinted glasses that might be able to hide his expression.

“I don’t even know if it’s a woman or… a man, could be either…” He forced himself to laugh but it didn’t want to sound real and faded away like dew in the sun. “Why do you even care? _I_ certainly don’t.”

He shrugged, a spark of anger twisting his voice, and why was he angry?

“I don’t need a soulmate. I want to play our songs, sing, make music, and that’s the thing I’m focusing on, okay? Perhaps I’ll have time for predestined love in ten years or so… we don’t even really know how this soulmate thing works, it’s ridiculous, so why should I even care? _I don’t_!”

Why did he let his voice grow loud and poisonous? Why was he glaring at Bernie if all he wanted was to throw his arms around him and never let go?

Clenching his teeth, he felt his jaw tighten, his throat, too, as if there were a piece of cloth blocking the way. He lowered his gaze to glower at the vegetables and that was a far better target than Bernie, because Bernie wasn’t to blame.

Elton sighed closing his eyes for a long second.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

When Bernie reached forward to squeeze the hand still lying on the table, there was a wave of warmth running through his body, a warmth like drinking hot camomile tea. It felt nice. It felt right.

“I know,” Bernie said, a smile on his lips, beautiful like always, a smile that seemed oddly sad and oddly knowing at the same time. _You don’t know about this_ , Elton thought. _You wouldn’t react like this if you knew_.

Bernie didn’t ask him again.

~

Elton often told himself that he’d tell Bernie. The next day. The day afterwards. Maybe next week. Not now because there was no time, never the right time, and perhaps that was because there simply wasn’t a ‘right time’ for something like this.

And then they went to the USA and he had even less time and even less desire to deal with the whole soulmate thing.

Most of the time he didn’t even think about the black writing along his hip. It wasn’t bold or colourful or impressive, the letters were small and simple, easy to read. Easy to ignore. Especially beneath layers of shirts and jackets.

It was only sometimes that he caught himself touching the inked name, fingers brushing over the skin like feathers as if a part of him were afraid he’d harm it if he dared to apply pressure.

And his heart beat inside his chest to the rhythm of a slow song only he could hear.

~

~

~

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**2/2**

**~**

**~**

**~**

The day at the Troubadour Club was the best and the worst of his life so far.

He’d loved being on stage, all these people cheering him one, looking at him and only him, the former chubby child _Reginald Dwight_ who had laughed into fate’s face and made it to the US, to _this_ moment. It made him forget all his problems, even if only for a few minutes.

Elton had been one with the stars, with space, and it might have been without Bernie, because they weren’t together, not even in this room, not really, not with this _thing_ like a barricade between them that only Elton could see.

But it had been enough for these few minutes.

~

When Bernie left _him_ , left him for a girl, betrayal burned like acid through his throat dissolving his insides, his mind, his soul, leaving him speechless and frozen. Only for a second, of course, because he needed to keep up the pretence, didn’t he? Because Bernie didn’t know, couldn’t know that if felt like a punch in the gut over and over again.

How could Elton feel rejected although he hadn’t even said something, done something?

Narrowing his eyes, he gulped down the familiar feeling of bile creeping up his throat. Ridiculous. Why did he even react that way? He’d known for a long time that he didn’t have a chance of being with Bernie, he’d known for such a long time. An embarrassingly long time.

 _Ridiculous_. He was behaving like a child that didn’t get to play with its toys and he wasn’t a child anymore. He needed to move on.

Bernie could do whatever and whoever he wanted. Elton didn’t care.

He _didn’t_.

~

John Reid was a welcome distraction, giddily handsome with dark hair and piercing, blue eyes that were cold but easy to look at because they weren’t like _his_. He wasn’t like _him_ at all, and that was as good a thing as Elton could get.

There might also be a part of him that was glad, happy even, that he didn’t need to handle yet another rejection, the pain of not being good enough, _never good enough_. There seemed to be someone who liked him, liked him _in this way_ , someone who wouldn’t leave him, hopefully. He needed to take what he could get.

And there was another quite convenient thing: John didn’t have a soulmate.

~

When they first slept together, Elton was running on arousal, alcohol, and the adrenaline of being awake for almost twenty hours and having his heart broken by someone who didn’t even know the whole scale of what he’d done.

He wasn’t thinking about his soulmate tattoo, why should he? It had only brought him pain. And he couldn’t care less for any potential soulmate John had.

However, after Elton took off the shirt with hasty, sweaty fingers, he came to know that John didn’t share this sentiment.

When he leaned in for another kiss, something pressing against his chest stopped him mid-air and he paused. The hot waves of electricity rushing through his body, the dizziness surrounding his mind like clouds made it difficult to grab a clear thought, let alone act on it. A part of him even fought against this idea, wanted to go on, didn’t want to pause and reflect and _remember_. Maybe that was why he needed a few moments to realise that it was a hand resting on his skin, and a few more to let his eyes flutter open.

“Wha-?”, he breathed without knowing what he even wanted to ask. It also didn’t matter because John didn’t even let him finish this one word leaning forward to let their lips brush against each other. When Elton felt a tongue running over the bottom part of his lips, he’d eagerly parted them, sparks flying through his body, fire pooling somewhere in his stomach.

However, John didn’t follow the invitation, didn’t press closer but nipped at the skin slightly, teeth grazing it like shards of glowing iron. Elton hadn’t noticed that he’d closed his eyes again but he must have because he couldn’t see anything, and he didn’t want to, didn’t want to see, to think, only wanted to feel.

He could feel John’s lips leaving his mouth but not his skin as they brushed along the line of his jaw, then across his cheek right to the light dip of his temple, and it felt soft and warm and _what if it wouldn’t have been him but-_

A shiver ran down his spine, a shiver like the touch of a lightning, and his member throbbed with an ache he couldn’t name as he hurried to shake these thoughts off his mind, and, _thank god_ , that John began to speak. Thank god, because he wasn’t able to open his eyes, lids heavy and stuck, and if he couldn’t see things, he could imagine, imagine someone else and he _would_ and that mustn’t happen.

John’s breath against his ear made it itch and tingle but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter as long as Elton would forget about- “You didn’t tell me you’ve got a soulmate,” John murmured, voice playful, but low and dark as well and it made him shiver all over again without even knowing why.

When he noticed that the hand on his chest had wandered off to a certain spot at the side of his hip giving it a light squeeze, his muscles tensed and for a weird second, he had the urge to pull away, to step away from this bed, from John, from all this, because he had no _right_ -

“Bernie Taupin, hm?”, John purred against his cheek pressing a peck on the skin that had a bit too much teeth involved. Elton almost didn’t notice because his mind was busy screaming, because the name burned through his body like poison that had been considered medicine once. He clenched his teeth and couldn’t resist the urge to jerk his head away.

He opened his lids at the same time as his mouth, looking into eyes like frozen water, eyes that shone with a spark that didn’t seem right, a spark like a lit match used to burn down tree after tree until the whole forest was destroyed.

“Isn’t that the guy you’re here with, darling, the long-haired cowboy?” John chuckled and it didn’t sound warm or happy at all. “A bit funny-looking, don’t you think?”

“Don’t,” Elton ground out. Anger battled with arousal when he grabbed the fingers at his hip to clasp their hands together, pushing until John was lying flat on the mattress and climbing on top of him. “Don’t you talk about him like that. Don’t…” He took a shaky breath, voice like acid. “I don’t want to hear that name from your mouth _ever_ again.”

Smirking, John lifted a neatly curved brow as if considering an option he knew he wouldn’t take. It didn’t seem right but Elton didn’t even care at this point, and when John reached out to cup his cheek, to draw their lips together, he let it happen.

It was only a few seconds later that John tightened the grip on his chin to separate their lips, to breathe against his skin, to speak _again_. Even before the words reached his consciousness, Elton knew that he didn’t want to hear them.

“I saw him with Heather, the tall beauty, you’ve seen him too, didn’t you?”, John said and it was cruel how the memories replayed almost instantly in Elton’s head. “So, what’s the matter with you two? You can’t be real soulmates like that, you can see that. And he’s a joke, writing silly words on a piece of paper, _Jesus_! You… you can’t be _liking_ him, do you?”

Elton flinched, muscles shaking and heavy, eyes stinging with unspilled tears, and if he’d hoped John hadn’t noticed he’d be disappointed. An ugly laugh. “C’mon, darling, you deserve so much more! Forget him! Let him go… you’re with me now.”

And he let their lips melt together for another kiss, shoving their hips together without even giving Elton the chance of replying, one hand resting at the back of his head, tightening, pressing closer, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, everything numb and hypersensitive, and a whirlwind of sparks and colours carried him away.

It was weird how he could be towering over somebody and feeling terribly weak and helpless at the same time.

Everything hurt and everything burned and a part of him felt good, wanted to burn in a sickening, aching way, and perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps he didn’t want it to matter.

Perhaps… John was right.

~

John Reid was neither good nor right.

His eyes were too cold for warmth to find a place in them, in his body, in his soul.

In the end, Elton knew that he should have left him at the first possibility, even before that sorry night after the performance at the Troubadour when the first shadows of doubt had crept into his mind.

But Elton clang to him because he had nothing else, because he couldn’t have, could he? Because he felt as if Bernie were only distancing himself a bit more every day, slipping out of his grip, leaving him, and Elton couldn’t go and talk to him because there was this damned tattoo at his hip, and _he mustn’t know_.

Often he didn’t even know why Bernie mustn’t know but the reason must have been important, right? It felt important, _was_ important.

Wasn’t it?

Living hurt except for the times he’d take drugs, drink bottles after bottles of vodka and whiskey, and even then, he’d just feel nothing at all.

When Bernie began looking at him out of slightly narrowed eyes, lips a thin line, eyes losing their warmth, and that scared him more than anything else, some part of him knew that he couldn’t go on like that.

But he also couldn’t go back.

He didn’t know how.

He was entangled in this web like a fly that had flown eagerly into the spider’s embrace of death. That only learned about its near doom when it was too late.

~

Elton didn’t know what day it was and it also didn’t matter.

His head ached as if he’d ran head-first into a concrete wall, and maybe that would have been better than the things he _had_ done the night before.

Not that he remembered them.

Not that he wanted to remember them.

His eyes fluttered open, not because he wanted to wake up but because he wanted to grab the bottle of vodka that should have been next to the couch he was lying on. The marble floor was cool beneath his fingertips as they brushed over the stone to… grab the air.

He shook his head, world wavering, nausea pooling in his stomach, but he managed to somehow straighten his back. When his tired, burning eyes roamed over the tiles, the table, yes, even the couch itself, he found… nothing. Nothing he’d wanted at least. No bottle of vodka although he had been sure, had been sure…

It took almost all of his muscle’s strength to shove himself off the cushions, and almost all of his willpower to keep standing.

He blinked a few times across the room before stumbling forward. Maybe he’d find something to drink or some pills in the study.

~

He didn’t.

Or rather, Elton didn’t even get to look because a noise made him stop right before the closed door. Mind empty and ripped by poison as it was, it took him a few moments to realise that what he was hearing was… _voices_. And familiar ones at that.

“-destroying him and I won’t let you continue, Reid,” a familiar man said, voice firm and cold but something told Elton that it wasn’t usually like that, that it was a warm, a soft voice, and his heart ached beautifully. He felt himself smiling, a small smile, one that was barely more than a light tug at the corners of his mouth, and then he knew.

 _Bernie._ Bernie was talking. Bernie, his friend, his best friend, _once?_ His soulmate. _And he mustn’t know, he mustn’t know…_

He shook his head frowning, the taste on his tongue bitter, and maybe that was only the last flicker of alcohol. For a moment his mind was clear, clearer than it had been for a long time, and his heart sped up because he needed to remember something, something important, something… something… a date?

A rough laugh dragged him out of his thoughts and for a second he wondered what he was doing in front of the study. Then, he noticed John Reid speaking. And Elton must have missed something from the conversation because what John was saying didn’t fit, didn’t fit the things Bernie had said.

“-didn’t tell you, did he?” A snort dripping of mockery. “It doesn’t surprise me, he’s egocentric like that. Well, I won’t do him the favour. Tomorrow, isn’t it?”

There was a second of silence and Elton felt his muscles tensing without knowing why, his pulse rushing through his ears like a cold waterfall.

“I don’t know what my birthday has to do with Elton,” Bernie said and Elton froze, eyes wide, as if someone had slapped him across his face, and he hadn’t felt sober like this in a long time.

“You’ll see,” John chuckled.

A crack echoed through the hallway when he opened the door, and _thank god_ that Elton had enough sense left to press himself against the wall behind it to hinder John from noticing him. It was probably luck that John walked away without turning around, without seeing or hearing him, but even after he’d turned the corner, Elton didn’t feel better.

In the shadow of the open door he closed his eyes trying to regulate his breathing, his heartbeat, that wouldn’t calm down, that went up and raced away, that made him dizzy, and he didn’t… he didn’t…

He felt his legs break away but it didn’t hurt when he collapsed on the floor, head banging against the wall behind him, and it should have, shouldn’t it? Perhaps it didn’t because the pain was already there, there in his chest, there in his mind, not physical but devastating all the same.

 _Bernie’s birthday_.

His 23rd birthday.

“Elton? Are you… alright, mate?”, someone whispered, _you aren’t alright_ hidden behind the words like trees in the morning’s mist, and he was close enough to sense the warmth radiating through the air, and it was _him_ , it was him, Bernie, he was there, with him. And…

… something just broke.

Elton’s eyes fluttered open long enough to see the shadow of his face, dark hair tucked away to a bun, eyes shining with warmth, and that was enough for him. Bernie must have knelt down because it was easy to throw his arms around the slender frame of his shoulders, and there was a soft gasp of surprise when Bernie fell against him, but it didn’t matter because soon enough he returned the hug, and Elton held onto him as if Bernie were the only rock in a storm-tossed sea.

Maybe he was.

Elton didn’t care when sobs began to shake his body, he didn’t care when tears spilled over his cheeks even though a tiny part of his mind didn’t want them ruining Bernie’s shirt, and it felt right, and warm, and the hand at the line of his back drew soft circles, and it felt nice, so very _nice_.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Elton whined repeating the words over and over again, chest contracting, and he didn’t want to be that weak, that helpless, that ridiculous, but… _maybe_ it was okay.

Bernie didn’t say something and he didn’t have to.

~

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was calm, steady, tears dried, and Elton didn’t know how long they’ve been lying there hugging each other, and it didn’t matter.

“I know,” Bernie said and Elton felt him smiling against the nape of his neck.

There was a pang of guilt twisting his insides like a thousand knifes, a pang of fear, a pang of uncertainty, but he didn’t ignore them anymore. He braced himself and shook his head, a motion more difficult than anything he’d ever done.

“You… don’t,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m sorry for. You don’t know even though you should. You should have been the first to know, and I… I’m sorry. I don’t k-know how I can make it up to you, but I promise, I’ll try! I promise, I’ll do anything, _please_ , please…” Elton felt new tears burning in his eyes but he blinked them away this time. He had to choke out the words nevertheless. “ _Please, don’t leave me…”_

Burnie withdrew just enough to look into his eyes, and, somehow, Elton managed to resist the urge to avert his gaze.

“Why should I leave you?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question, there was no playfulness to his tone, no mockery of words, no making fun of him, and Elton was thankful for it.

He took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the day of m-my… 23rd birthday?” Elton needed too long to form the words with his tongue heavy and shapeless, but Bernie didn’t seem to care, eyes focused patiently on him. “I… I _l-lied_ to you. I’ve said that… I didn’t know my soulmate, t-the… the name. I lied. I-I… know him. I know him because… because…” A part of him felt Bernie tensing, freezing, as if he already knew the words even before they grazed the air. He swallowed hard wetting his lips and when he felt that he couldn’t go on, he closed his eyes and ground out the last words.  

“Because I know you.”

Elton considered to never open his eyes again because he didn’t think he could stand the look of resentment and hate he’d undoubtedly get, because he wouldn’t be able to live through another rejection, because he didn’t want to see the _coldness_.

The silence felt like death.

He didn’t want to cry but, somehow, he felt a tear rolling out of the corner of his eye, then another one, then another one, and _he didn’t want to cry_ , he’d known what to expect a long time ago, hadn’t he?

His heart skipped a beat when there was a thumb at his cheek brushing over the skin oh so softly, drying the wet traces, and the touch made a light shiver run down his back.

“It’s alright,” Bernie whispered and Elton opened his eyes even though it took him a few seconds of blinking to push away the blurriness of his vision.

“I won’t leave you, Elton, okay? I won’t leave you. I couldn’t.” His smile brightened, and there was no resentment, no hate, and Elton felt a tingling dancing in his chest. “Breathe. It’s alright.”

When Elton inhaled, it felt like breathing oxygen for the first time after being underwater his whole life.

“Can I… see it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he opened the buttons at the bottom of his shirt, just enough of them to pull his shirt open, showing the skin at the side of his hip, the black letters, the name. _His_ name.  

Bernie reached out before pausing and throwing him a glance that was asking _May I_? and it was soft, and sweet, and Elton nodded, his stomach fluttering but not in a bad way. He didn’t feel sick at all.

Bernie traced the lines, barely even touching the skin and leaving it too soon, but it felt nicer than anything Elton had ever done with John.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated because he didn’t feel like he could ever say it too often.

“My god, shut up, mate,” Bernie said rolling his eyes and there was no venom in his voice. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Well, you have. I don’t like you lying to me, and I certainly don’t like you keeping a thing like this to yourself… but I _hate_ what that bastard Reid’s done to you and…” A dark sparkle appeared in his eye, his smile fading. “I hate myself for not acting earlier. _I_ …”

He let himself fall back, knees on the floor, one hand rubbing his forehead as If he were trying to force away a headache. A short laugh. “I’m really stupid, am I not? I didn’t even think about the possibility… and you…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you were stupid, I would be ten times worse,” Elton murmured. “You’re a much better person than I could ever be. You’re…”

 _Perfect. An angel._ But he didn’t say either of these things and perhaps he didn’t even have to because Bernie looked as if he’d understood him all too well. He looked up and then, slowly, a smile spread on his lips.

“Well, I won’t argue that,” he chuckled before pausing. “What do you think of launching Reid into outer space? And maybe… maybe taking a break? From all this? Together?”

Elton’s soul rejoiced.

“You have a place in mind?”

~

The day afterwards, he knew that all his fear, his worry, had been unfounded after all.

Because Bernie Taupin was Elton’s soulmate, and, well, Elton John was Burnie’s.

~

Kissing Bernie was nice because there was nothing of the forced friction, of the feeling of running in front of a rushing train he’d endured with John in it. It was warm and soft, and every time their lips touched melting together like pieces of a puzzle, his heart sang a melody, not for himself, but for his soulmate, and the warmth of their joined bodies, minds, souls. And hearts.

Hearts above all, because how could you love without a heart?

Elton might have given his own away but in the end, he was given another one, from an angel with eyes like warmly glimmering candles, and he didn’t need anything else.

He didn’t need a mother who only cared for having new seaside mansion, and he certainly didn’t need a manager and lover who only cared for the money and fame Elton could get him.

John?

He never talked to John again after breaking up with him, after firing him right after _that_ day, and it might have to do with the ranch he was busy exploring, with Bernie at his side of course. A ranch with a name that had a nice ring to it.

_Home._

It wasn’t space with its magical stars and planets and infinity.

It was even better.

~

~

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are…I want to say thank you to everyone who subscribed, left a kudo, commented, or just read and liked this story. I love all of you! Please let me know what you think of the second part & have a nice day! :)


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